Chapter 38
Capitolo Trentotto
Ravenna stood in front of the window, looking down at the herald as he repeated the list of names, his voice, laced in condemnation, echoing through the square.
On all four sides, he was surrounded by the imposing buildings making up the main piazza, the heart of Florence.
Behind him stood the Arnolfo Tower, where the bodies of the executed conspirators hung as a warning.
The Medici had set all of Florence to hunt her down.
Saturnino was at her side, his expression grim, his eyes narrowed in anger, lips flattened. Ravenna had come to know his face intimately. She recognized the lethal hostility flaring in his features, but she also noted his fear.
For her.
Already, a crowd gathered around the herald, restless for justice as he called out the names, over and over. They cried out in support of the Medici, cried out for justice. She listened as strangers—merchants, nobles, commoners alike—demanded her head.
“Ravenna Maffei,” the herald yelled. “Sister to Antonio Maffei, known conspirator—” He gestured behind him, pointing to one of the bodies. She looked in that direction, squinting, wondering … Ravenna swayed, horror gripping her.
Saturnino reached for her, taking hold of her hand.
Antonio’s maimed body hung over the piazza.
Ravenna collapsed against Saturnino, and he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest, bringing her back to his bed.
He tucked her around him, pulling the blankets over them, and held her as she grieved her little brother.
She cried and cried and cried, and all the while Saturnino caressed her back, stroked her hair, keeping her close, safe, heard.
He wiped her tears, and didn’t rush her sorrow.
“How can I bury him?” Ravenna asked in a broken whisper. “He ought to have a proper Christian burial.”
“No one will allow for that,” Saturnino said gently. “If he goes missing, it will only increase their fervor to find you. And I think…”
“What?”
“The pope’s retaliation will be swift,” he said, grim. “He won’t let what happened go unpunished. The whole city will be condemned. It’s only a matter of time.”
Ravenna pressed her forehead against his cool chest, overcome. She didn’t know how she could bear any of it. What would her parents say when she told them? Would they blame her?
The day crept forward, but time seemed to stand still in the cocoon Saturnino had made around them.
“I can’t remember the last time I cried so much,” she whispered against his throat.
He was quiet for so long that she didn’t think he would respond, but eventually he said, “I remember the last time I cried.”
Ravenna shifted, turning fully on her side, propping her head with the cradle of her hand so she could better look at him. “Will you tell me?”
“I’ve never told anyone,” Saturnino said, his voice hushed, barely audible.
She reached for him, placing her hand on his heart. “You don’t have to tell me now.”
“If it’s not you, it’s no one,” Saturnino said. “I’m a coward, Ravenna, but I want to be brave enough to be known fully. By you.” He sucked in a deep breath. “How much do you know about magic, love?”
“Very little.”
He plucked a strand of her hair, curled it around his finger. “The fae live on lands that hold ancient magic, and they cultivate their domain, taking care of the rivers and streams, their caves and their soil.” He paused. “Stop me if you know any of this.”
“I never wanted to learn about magic. Not until now.”
Saturnino peered at her closely. “The fae can’t perform magic, but witches and the odd wizard can, and so a bargain was made centuries ago to allow for a trade. It is an ancient accord between the two races, the Sacramentum Lignorum.”
“Oath of the Woods,” Ravenna translated.
“Yes. Over the centuries, the fae have collected hundreds upon hundreds of spells.”
“But it wasn’t a fae who enchanted you,” Ravenna said, remembering. “It was a witch.”
Saturnino inclined his head. “I was created as an act of revenge. The witch was furious at her lover, the pope, who refused to acknowledge their child. An illegitimate son.”
“The pope has a son? Who is it?”
Saturnino hesitated.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she whispered.
“We’ve never revealed his identity,” he said. “It’s another secret, a condition of the spell we are under, to always protect him, whatever the cost.” He closed his eyes, nostrils flaring slightly. When he opened them again, he met her gaze. Steady and sure. “It’s Lorenzo de’ Medici.”
Ravenna’s hand flew to her mouth. “No. The pope is his father?”
“Yes.” He brought his fingers to her collarbone and gently caressed her.
“No one in Florence knows of his true parentage. It’s a way to protect him and his family.
Our single purpose, the reason we were made in the first place, is to safeguard the Medici family, to keep them safe, not just physically, but in their financial security, too. ”
“And what of the witch?” Ravenna asked. “What happened to her?”
Saturnino frowned. “A mystery. After she created us, we came to Florence, where we met her son. Her relatives were helping to raise him, distant cousins who lived with her in the Palazzo Medici. But then she disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Ravenna repeated. “What do you mean? How? When?”
“We’ve been trying to find her for one hundred years, to no avail.
She’s gone,” he said. “Fortuna thinks she was one of the early witches rounded up for the pyre when the pope first started his campaign against them. Back then, no one was safe. If there was a rumor you were harboring or assisting a witch … many people died by fire.” He paused.
“The pope never gave up looking for his stolen statues.”
“You,” Ravenna breathed. “But why the obsession, why search the world over?”
“As statues, we are considered priceless,” he said wryly. “Stone made not from anything on earth, but from heaven itself.”
“Stardust,” Ravenna said with a little smile. “You’re made of stardust.”
Saturnino smiled back. “I think we’re all made of stardust.”
“What did you all do then?”
Ravenna watched his hands for a moment, and as she impulsively reached for his palm, his familiar cool touch sent a thrum of wonder through her—this man had once been stone, no different from the rock she worked with to create beauty.
He spoke slowly, in a measured tone, almost halting.
“Silvio and Juno decided the best way to achieve our goals was to form a family, since we were bound together in magic and purpose. We each of us had our strengths, but in many ways, we were young. Innocent of the ways of the world.” His lips twisted.
“Of the way that humans can be. I learned my lesson soon after our arrival in Florence. I’d befriended a group of nobles, around the age I was supposed to be.
We were seemingly aligned in our politics and loyal to the Medici, but that proved to be only a ruse.
I was a means to an end, and one evening they caught me unaware.
It was at night, near the Arno River. They beat me with their fists.
They stabbed me with swords, daggers. They broke bones, carved my skin.
Everywhere they could reach. It was the first time I’d felt pain. ”
His voice dropped, and Ravenna had to lean closer to hear him. Her heart pounded, breaking for the young man he had been all those years ago, part of a community that had turned against him.
“I thought I’d go mad from it,” Saturnino said bleakly. “My body kept healing itself, but I wanted to die. None of them were satisfied until they’d hurt every inch of me. But that wasn’t the worst of it. When they were finally done, they pitched my body into the river.”
“No,” Ravenna whispered, horrified. “No.”
Saturnino lifted his eyes, blue-rimmed with unshed tears. “My nature is a blend of marble and human, both. It’s a duality that keeps me in limbo, in between. Not one thing or the other. I’m heavy, I cannot swim.”
“You drowned,” Ravenna said, tears streaming down her face.
“Many, many times,” he said, his body shuddering. “It took me a full day to get myself out.”
Anger coursed through her. At the people who had pretended to be his friend. At the power struggles that made monsters of men. At the world for its cruelty and harshness. She raged at the injustice. “You were alone.”
“I am afraid of that river, Ravenna,” he said. “I vowed never to go near it again. Except fate had other plans for me, and this time, she gave me you.” A tender, tremulous smile crept across his face. “You didn’t abandon me. You are everything I’m not. Decent, loving, brave, hopeful, kind—”
Ravenna leaned forward, climbing on top of him, overcome with the need to touch him, to be near to him. She kissed him and held on to him, hungry, desperate, in search of healing.
For both of them.
Saturnino brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Marry me, Ravenna.”
She blinked down at him.
“Marry me,” he echoed softly. “Please.” He cupped the back of her neck, massaging her gently, bringing her closer, her legs straddling his lap. “I want to protect you, I want to provide for you when I’m gone.”
“No,” she said, anguished. “Don’t say things like that—”
He brought his lips to her ear, held her tight against him.
“Listen to me, love. I have money and properties across the whole of this peninsula, I have chests filled with jewels and gold. Take my name, and all of it will be yours. Everything I have will belong to you. Let me take care of you, please.”
“Saturnino—”
“Say yes,” he demanded. “Please, please, please.”
Ravenna closed her eyes, nodded once, her body shaking.
Saturnino pulled away slightly. “Was that a yes?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “But how will we marry? No church in Florence will accept me.”
Saturnino reached for her hand, slowly, lacing his fingers with hers. No longer cool to the touch, but warm. “Io ti prendo come mia moglie.”
I take you as my wife.